


What to Expect When You're Unsuspecting

by PenPistola



Series: NeverVerse [3]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Babies, Family, Fanfiction of Fanfiction, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Parenthood, Slice of Life, This is my life now, WAFF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-09-01 08:25:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8616721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenPistola/pseuds/PenPistola
Summary: Apartment 1025. All it takes now is for you to knock on the door, show him the Polaroid you have in your purse, and start the conversation you've dreaded having ever since you found out you were pregnant.Just a few more feet.Come on.   You close the distance, raise your hand, and knock.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A while back, after writing _Neverwere_ and _Polaroid Snapshots_ , I and a couple other people speculated how things might have gone if Roxy had reached out to Dirk and they'd raised the kids together. This has been sitting in Google Docs for like a year at 90% finished, so I decided to spruce it up and put it out there. I wouldn't say it's a particularly thorough exploration of that possibility, but it's a beginning. I guess you could call it... a retcon!
> 
> I don't know if reading the other fics first is strictly necessary, but things will make a lot more sense if you do. I guess the basic thing to understand is that this is a non-canon 'post-game' universe, where, due to the absence of Sburb's paradoxical ectobiology mechanisms, everybody was born the old-fashioned way... i.e., Dirk and Roxy had a one-night-stand. This fic picks up at the middle of [_Polaroid Snapshots_ chapter 3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2214945/chapters/4860105), wherein Roxy has had baby Dave and Rose, and is now preparing herself to break the belated news to Dirk.

\-- [ROXY] April, 1996 --

Finding your children's father presents only a minor challenge. When you call the number on the business card he'd given you, an irritable-sounding older man hangs up on you the moment you mention his name: Dirk Strider. Undeterred, you go back to the club where you'd met him and flash the card at a couple of bartenders. You use your womanly wiles to convince them that you're interested in hiring Dirk for a DJ gig, and in a matter of minutes, you have an address. Easy peasy.

There's a cafe across the street from the shabby building where he's living, so you pick out a seat by the window and perch on the edge of it an hour or so before he's due to come home from his day job. If you let your mind wander for too long, you start to worry about the babies, at home with a babysitter, and so you distract yourself by guzzling coffee and rehearsing what you're going to say to Dirk. You grow more jittery with every runthrough.

Dirk finally walks by just before dusk. You recognize him as soon as you see him. Automotive grease stains litter his bare, freckled arms, and headphones cover his rather prodigious ears. He nods along to his music, twitching his fingers subconsciously as if he's spinning records in his head. He's so young. Painfully young. You almost rethink the idea of asking him for help at all, but ultimately your desperation wins out. You have to give Dirk a chance to be a father before you resort to adoption. If he's not interested in being involved, or if he's unable to offer assistance with child support, you suppose you'll just... do what you have to do. At least you can live with the knowledge that you tried.

You throw down some cash and follow Dirk, tailing him from a short distance inside the building and up the stairs, staying out of sight as best you can. He stops at the very top floor, and you watch from around the corner as his front door closes behind him.

Apartment 1025. All it takes now is for you to knock on the door, show him the Polaroid you have in your purse, and start the conversation you've dreaded having ever since you found out you were pregnant.

Just a few more feet.

Come on.

_You close the distance, raise your hand, and knock._

_//_

At first there's no answer, and, coward that you are, you consider running. But then it occurs to you that he might still have his headphones on, and he can't hear you. You wait another minute and try knocking again. This time, you hear a muffled "Sec'!" from inside the apartment. Your heart leaps into your throat. It's too late to back out now; you're doing this.

The door opens.

"Sup?" Dirk asks. The headphones are now dangling around his neck, and he's in the process of scrubbing his hands with a greasy, blackened rag. He's wearing sunglasses, although they're pushed up into his hair, so you can see that he hasn't yet recognized you. "Can I help you?"

You've rehearsed this a thousand times, but your mouth is suddenly dry as the Sahara. "I think maybe you can. Or… I hope you can."

At the sound of your voice, his eyes lock with yours, that same sharp golden-orange you remember, and the rag drops to the floor. "Wait. _Wait_. It's—you're the… From the club."

"Hi. I'm Roxy. Roxy Lalonde."

"How did you find where I live?" he asks. "Why are you even…" But he's not stupid. "Oh nonono, _fuck_ ," he breathes, going deathly pale as he comes to the only logical conclusion as to why a random hookup would be standing on his doorstep several months after the fact. Well, one of two possible conclusions. "Did… did something happen?"

"Yeah, you might say that," you near-whisper. "I got pregnant."

He takes the news like he might a kick to the groin, reeling and clutching the doorframe with a white-knuckled hand to steady himself. "Oh, fffffuck," he croaks. You can see the gears in his head grinding away, trying to process the variables and the math. "But that's impossible—it's been more than nine months," he argues weakly, searching for some flaw in your logic, an out that isn't there. "More than a year."

"Yeah. I gave birth back in December, but I only just now worked up the nerve to come find you. I… didn't know how to tell you."

A curious head pokes out of a door further down the hall, and you feel the chill of their gaze skittering down your spine. "Could I maybe come in?"

"Shit. Yeah, shit, sorry." Dirk steps back out of the hallway and you follow him inside, closing the door behind you when you realize he's too distracted to do it himself. "Lemme grab us something to drink."

His apartment is tiny, a one-bedroom that hasn't seen renovation in maybe thirty years. There's an ashtray on the cable spool coffee table filled with what are clearly joint roaches, and dirty clothes are strewn about the floor. You sit daintily on the ratty futon that serves as his sofa, and catch the faint scent of pot smoke and stale sweat. It drives home that this is a teenage boy's apartment, and you feel another pang of regret for upending his world so soon into his adult life.

Dirk comes back with two tall glasses of room-temperature tap water in his clammy, shaking hands and sits down beside you. You accept the one he offers you eagerly, and both of you chug until there's nothing left. He sets his glass down on the coffee table with a clatter, winces at the noise, and swallows hard.

"So you had a baby, and you're sure it's... mine?" he says hesitantly. His gaze flitters with restless anxiety, avoiding your general vicinity like you're a black hole and he's afraid he'll get sucked in.

"Babies," you correct him with a gentle smile. "Twins, a girl and a boy."

He blanches even paler, if that's possible. "Shit. Are you _serious?_ "

"For better or for worse. And yeah, we can do a paternity test if you want, but I know for sure they're yours." You slide the Polaroid of the two babies from your wallet and hold it out for him to see. Despite the difference in age, there's an unmistakable resemblance.

"Oh god, oh god. _Fuck_." Dirk runs his fingers through his choppy, dark blond hair, tugging at it like he's trying to wake up, and he looks faintly sick, and so _young_. Your heart clenches in sympathy.

"Dirk, I know you're just a kid, and this probably isn't how you wanted your life to go. Sleeping with you was wrong, and I take full responsibility for that mistake." He's almost hopeful for a moment, but you don't want to give him the wrong idea, so you continue straight to the point. "Unfortunately, I'm just not capable of taking care of two babies on my own."

"Aaaand there's the rub," he says with a bitterness that seems to embarrass him in the next moment. "I—Sorry." You can't blame him, though. There's no imagining what it must be like to be on the receiving end of this news. "So... what?" he asks. "What do you want from me? What do we do?"

This is the part of the conversation you'd spent the most time rehearsing. "The way I see it, we have three options. Option one is I give up one or both of the babies for adoption. But I'll be honest, I don't want to have to hand them over to a stranger, and I don't want them split up." Dirk nods unhappily. "Option two is that I keep both on my own. You wouldn't have to be involved, but you'd have to pay child support. Honestly, I don't want to have to go that route either; it seems unfair to everybody, especially the kids. And third, I know I'm a complete stranger to you and I don't deserve to ask for this, but if you're willing, I thought... maybe you could move in with me."

He finally looks your way, blinking at you incredulously. "Move in."

"Yeah. I have a pretty nice two-bedroom apartment, and it's not too expensive. We could split the rent, and you wouldn't have to pay child support, and more of our money could go to the babies. They could have their dad around."

He flinches at the word 'dad', and so you forge on, deathly afraid that this might be your only chance to convince him.

"I'm working on my doctorate right now, and when I finish in a couple of years, I'll be making a lot more money than I am now. When that happens, I'd totally be okay with helping fund college tuition for you, or if you wanted to move out at that point, I could help you with rent and cut you some slack on child support. I wouldn't be asking at all, except that I just can't do the whole thing by myself right now, and–"

"Roxy?" he cuts you off.

"Y-yeah?" You go perfectly still, sensing how fragile this moment is. His answer now could end up defining the next eighteen years of all of your lives.

Dirk sighs miserably through his nose, his brows furrowed and his shoulders hiked around his ears, like a prisoner before the firing squad. "Could I… could I maybe see them before I make a decision?"

Oh. "Yeah, of course," you say. You fight not to feel too hopeful, because Dirk hasn't committed to anything yet, but it's encouraging that he's at least interested in meeting his offspring. "We can go right now, if you want. The babies are at home with a babysitter, and I cleared my whole schedule today, so we have all evening."

"Cool," he says, though his heart's not in it. "Did you come in a car?"

"Nah, I took the bus. I grew up on Long Island taking the subway, so I never got a car."

"Okay," he nods, "I'll drive."

 

Dirk's pickup is a tiny little rust bucket, and you make a mental note to work with him on getting something nicer if he's going to have even partial custody of the kids. It's only got lap belts, so you stick your arm out the window (it doesn't have A/C, either) and grip the frame above your head.

He's clearly quite distracted, lost in his own thoughts when he pulls out onto the road, and so you think of something to ask him to keep him engaged in the here-and-now. "So, tell me more about yourself," you half-shout over the roaring wind.

He seems surprised you'd care to know, but it works, his eyes going focused again. "Well, you know my name. Uh. I turned eighteen last month." Fuck, he was still _seventeen_ when the babies were born? You are officially the world's biggest goddamn slimeball. "I work at a car repair place when I'm not DJ-ing. I'm Jewish, but non-religious. Oh, and this one's kind of awkward in retrospect, but… I'm actually gay."

Hold the phone. "What? Really?" You hadn't taken him for the type.

He shrugs, pink-cheeked. "Well, kinda. I have no desire whatsoever to date women, but if you get me drunk enough, I guess I'm willing to fu—uh, _sleep_ with them."

"Seems that way," you muse mostly to yourself, thinking back to the night you'd met. He hadn't seemed too terribly repulsed by your lady bits at the time. (Though, in hindsight, that may or may not explain the panties he'd been wearing.) "Maybe you're bisexual but homoromantic?"

He shrugs uncomfortably. "Whatever. I guess the point of that is, don't expect me to date you or marry you or anything."

You snort a laugh. "I didn't, I promise. No shotgun weddings, and you don't gotta 'make an honest woman outta me'."

"Good." He seems to relax, and even smiles faintly. "Um, what're you getting your PhD in?"

"I'm going for two, if I can," you tell him, happy to move on to something you're passionate about. "Computer Science and Astrophysics."

He perks up in interest. "Really? That's rad as shit. I'd've gone for CompSci if I'd been able, done robotic engineering. I was learning Python just before my parents gave me the boot, 'cause I think it's got a lot of potential for application in robotics."

Hm, that's intriguing. Your first, drunken impression of Dirk wasn't exactly flattering, but he's proven quite sharp so far today. If you have interests in common, that's promising, too. "What's your focus?" he asks.

"Discrete math, software engineering, and massively parallel computing. I did my Masters thesis number-crunching cosmic phenomena with a supercomputer. Plotting binary neutron stars, black holes, pulsars, that sort of thing." The project had been right up your alley, marrying your programming prowess with your love for all things space-related.

Dirk goes a little starry-eyed, and you swallow a giggle. Then he seems to remember why he's here, and says quietly, "At least the kids'll be smart."

You clear your throat and turn your eyes back to the road. "What's your family like?"

"Assholes," he spits. "We can't expect to get any help from my parents. Although I guess I should tell them. Just... not in person. Too many opportunities for fuckin' 'I told you so'." He shudders, flexing his fingers around the steering wheel, then glances your way. "What about yours?"

Now it's your turn to break eye contact to stare out the window at the deeply uninteresting, concrete inner city. "My parents are pretty nice people, all things considered, but I haven't told them, either."

"Why not?"

You sigh. "My dad's dying of Alzheimer's."

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry," he says. "That's gotta be pretty awful."

"He needs my mom's care pretty much twenty four-seven, so they don't really have the time or the money to help out. And my dad... Half the time he doesn't even know who _I_ am, so I'm not sure how much it would really mean to him to have grandkids. I'll tell them, just... when the time is right."

"I feel you."

"Yeah." You take a deep breath. "It's the next left, just before the light."

The mood stays solemn as you direct him where to park, and on the walk up to your apartment, he grows visibly tense. You don't know what to say to reassure him. When you open the door, you're greeted by the sound of the twins gurgling and screeching in delight, and Dirk freezes completely. You have to take him by the hand and lead him in.

Molli, your college-age babysitter, looks up from where she was finishing changing Rose's diaper. "Ms. Roxy? You're home early."

"Yeah, sorry, I overestimated how long I'd be out." You dig out the cash for the full three hours you'd promised to pay her for. "Here you go."

"Thanks!" She takes it with a grateful smile, which falters when she catches sight of Dirk hovering behind you. She doesn't ask questions, though, merely slinging her bag over her shoulder and waving goodbye in a hurry, and you're certain it's because she'd figured out exactly what was happening here. Dirk seems as relieved as you are to have her gone. He lets out a breath when the door closes, and you realize he'd been holding it almost since the stairs.

The two babies lie on their backs on a blanket in the center of the living room floor, surrounded by a scattering of plush rattles and stuffed animals. Rose is smiling, grasping at the toes of her pink socks to try and pull them toward her. Dave is grunting and windmilling his arms in an uncoordinated attempt to roll himself onto his belly. He hasn't quite gotten the hang of the maneuver yet.

Dirk takes a single step forward, his lips parted and his eyes wide. He breathes slow and shallow, as if to stave off a panic attack. "What're their names?" he whispers. "Should've asked that earlier, sorry."

"It's okay." You kneel down on the blanket and help Dave onto his tummy, beaming happily. It's always such a relief to see them after any length of absence. "This handsome lil' man is David, and his sweetie-pie sister is Roselyn. Dave and Rose, for short."

"Cool," Dirk nods. He approaches slowly, like he's afraid they'll bite, and kneels next to you. You don't miss that he's put you between himself and the babies. He's scared shitless and you sympathize, but he's got to directly interact with them sometime, if he's considering stepping up.

"Do you… wanna hold them?" you ask.

"Okay," he swallows.

"Which one first?"

"The girl, I guess."

"Alright, c'mon Rosie. You get to meet somebody new today." She smiles sunnily when she hears your voice, and wriggles in your arms when you pick her up off the blanket. She's a very easygoing baby, so it's probably for the best that Dirk starts with her.

"You ready?"

"Y-yeah."

He's a little clumsy, but you guide his arms into position so he can properly support her in a cradle hold. His eyes are wide and terrified, and when you settle Rose fully in his arms, he goes perfectly still again. He stares down at her, and she stares back, almost as if she understands that this new person is someone very important to her. "She's really warm," Dirk says with wondering bewilderment. It's not what you expected him to say when holding his baby daughter for the first time, and you snort quietly.

"People generally are."

"'People'," he muses, the tension slowly uncoiling from his body as Rose squirms and paps at his arms and chest. "It sounds crazy, but before now, it was kind of hard to think of babies as actual tiny _people_. They were almost like a separate species, just this abstract idea that would never happen to me. But it feels different when the kid is… is mine. Makes more sense to think of them that way."

It's practically a speech, coming from Dirk, and in the course of it he's acknowledged Rose as his. You clear your throat to try and temper your hopefulness. "I think Dr. Seuss said it best; ' _A person's a person, no matter how small_.'"

Dirk transfers Rose's weight to one arm and uses his free hand to touch the wisps of blonde hair on her head, to stroke the soft skin of her cheek. His breathing's gone shallow and too even again, and his eyes are bright and glassy in the dim living room lamplight.

"Hey," you say gently, "I'm gonna give you a minute. I need to go heat up some bottles of formula for them. I'll be back in a few, okay?"

"Yeah, sure," he says, without meeting your eyes.

Never mind that you normally breastfeed the babies when you're together; you're happy to give Dirk some privacy to be emotional if he needs it. You do eavesdrop from the kitchen, however, when Dirk starts talking after a moment alone.

"Hey, uh, Rose? Hi. It's nice to meet you." His voice is low, gentle, shaky. "So… you're my daughter. That's pretty crazy, huh? I can't believe I helped _make_ you. Never thought I'd be in this situation, you know? Especially not so soon. But there's no coming back from this one, and… I guess it's not the end of the world. You seem pretty chill, for a baby. You smell a lot nicer than I thought babies would smell. And maybe I'm biased, but you're cuter than any other kid I've seen. Though, I don't know, your brother's pretty cute, too."

The microwave beeps, and you remove the hot water you use to heat formula. You take a chance and peek around the corner to see Dirk replacing Rose on the blanket with infinite care, more than is even really necessary, and moving on to his son. Dave is a little more wary of strangers and usually pouts and cries when somebody new is holding him, but beyond a single disgruntled whine, he doesn't seem to mind when Dirk picks him up.

"Okay, let's see if I got this. Support the head, check."

You smile and duck back into the kitchen to check the formula's temperature. It's sufficiently warmed by now, but you want Dirk to have as much time as he needs.

"Sup, Dave. I know I'm a stranger to you right now, but… I'd like to get to know you. You're pretty rad for a wiggly potato with legs. I bet you're gonna grow up to be awesome, huh? Shit. You know, you really do look like me, don't you? You and your sister. That's… that's cool." The last few words come out thick, and then he sniffs hard and exhales a shuddery sob.  "Fuck, what am I gonna do? What do I _do?_ "

You close your eyes to avoid tearing up yourself. He's going through the same shock and denial you did, but he doesn't have the luxury of half a year to get used to the idea. He's a kid, he's just a _kid_ , but he can't afford to be anymore—not now that he's been so rudely pressed into an adult's life, with an adult's problems; into _parenthood_.

You give him as much time as you can, but the formula is starting to cool down. You snag the bottles and make a clatter as you shake them, to let Dirk know you're coming. He's put himself back together admirably by the time you walk out into the living room. He must know you heard him cry, and he seems grateful that you don't mention it.

"So, what do you think of them?" you ask him as you heft Rose into your arms to begin feeding her. Dirk dutifully takes the other bottle and mimics your actions with Dave, who's happy to be fed, even if it's by someone unfamiliar.

"I think there's no denying I'm their dad." He nearly trips over it, and he says it with a dry, bitter amusement, but at least he's willing to use the dreaded D-word. When Dave spits out the bottle after a few minutes, Dirk replaces the baby on the blanket, then rubs a palm over his tiny back. Dave lets out a hiccup, but doesn't spit up. Miracle baby, seriously. "I can't say I was ever a fan of babies in general. But… like I said, it's different when you know it's your kid. Makes them seem surprisingly tolerable."

"Yeah?" you smile. "I've always loved babies, but I agree, it was completely different when they were mine. Completely different."

Silence falls again, and you watch him watching your children. You're not sure exactly how to take his admission to Dave that he wants to be involved, and you don't want to get your hopes up. Hope is dangerous. In all likelihood, all he wants is child support and every other weekend—and although you'd like more, you can't force him. "Do you wanna stay for dinner?" you ask cautiously, replacing Rose next to her brother once she's burped.

To your surprise, he shakes his head and says, "Nah. It's only a week till the end of the month. If I'm gonna move out of my place, I better get packing and let my landlord know tonight."

Your heart stutters and thuds in your chest the moment his words sink in. "I– _really?_ " Even though it's what you were hoping for, you almost don't believe it. It's too good to be true. "This is a monumental commitment I'm asking of you," you warn him, to ensure he truly understands the stakes. "It's a lifetime commitment. Are you sure?" You know it's risky to second-guess him, but you'd die of guilt if you thought you'd pressured him into staying.

Dirk looks down at his hands, palms-up in his lap, and seems to struggle for words. "My life as I knew it is over. It's _over_ ," he insists, before you can protest. "But... my life was hardly worth living, anyway. The only good thing I had going for me was my job. Well, maybe that's not true anymore." He takes a deep breath. "I've been looking for something to make it all seem worth it. I don't want to be a 'failure', or a 'waste of space'." He puts air quotes around his words, and you think back to the man who had answered the number on his business card. "I want to do something good with my life, something I can be proud of, and... Well, maybe this is it."

Dirk lets out an 'oof!' of shock when you lunge at him and collide with his chest to squeeze him around the shoulders. You freeze when his arms come up, certain you've gone too far and he means to pull you away, but then they close around your waist, and he hugs you back. He's trembling a little, but he seems to draw strength from you, and his voice is steady when he whispers, "I'm sure."

You stay that way for a good fifteen seconds, until he starts fidgeting and you take the hint and let him go. If his cheeks are awash with pink, yours must be fire-engine red. You're not sure what to say, so your renegade brain takes over and of course the first thing out your mouth is, "No pot in the apartment. Or alcohol, probably." _God dammit, Roxy, you could have just said 'thank you'._

To your relief, he laughs. "Believe me, that will _not_ be a problem." He has cute dimples, which is one mystery solved—you knew the babies didn't get theirs from you.

One of the little rugrats (probably Dave, judging by his cheeky smile) lets out a wet, bubbling fart. The horrified look on Dirk's face is _priceless_. "So, hey," you giggle, "Before you go, d'you wanna learn how to change a diaper?"

Dirk doesn't seem too enthused by the idea, but he shrugs and says, "I've gotta learn at some point, and now's as good a time as any." He sticks with it through Dave peeing all over his hands _and_ the fresh diaper, and smiles faintly with triumph when the baby is clean and dry.

There's no way to know for certain, but you think he'll do just fine.

 

The sun has long since gone down by the time you're ready for goodbyes. Once again, you're not sure what to say or do. You're not even sure what you are to each other, beyond co-parents. Should you hug Dirk again? Ask for his number? No, maybe not; that might be awkward. No less awkward than standing silently together in your doorway, though.

Dirk clears his throat. "So, uh, you should probably give me your number or something. You know, so we can stay in touch." Welp, at least you didn't have to say it. You don't mind Dirk being the awkward fall guy; he's kinda cute when he blushes.

"Yeah, no prob!"

He doesn't have any paper on him, and his palms are sweaty, so you use a felt-tip pen to write your number on the back of his hand: 713-976-0413. He stares at it for a moment as the ink bleeds into the texture of his skin. "Give me a day or two to square things away with my landlord and move out of my apartment," he says. "I don't really have much worth bringing with me besides my clothes, so it shouldn't take too long."

"Do you have enough money if you get charged a fee to break the lease?"

He nods. "I don't exactly make a _lot_ of money, but I don't spend much either. I should be good with the lease, and then I can start pitching in on rent here as soon as I get my paycheck at the end of the month."

"Do you mind me asking how much you make?"

The figure he gives you is rather modest, but he'll bring home just enough to bridge the gap you previously couldn't afford, plus whatever expenses he adds with his presence. You can keep the babies in daycare _and_ have water and electricity every month. If you're doing the calculations right, you'll even able to set aside a tiny portion of each of your paychecks that's off-limits to the other, for savings or spending money. It's been _so_ long since you've splurged on a good smoothie.

So, that's one thing sorted. One of about a thousand, unfortunately. You'll have to get Dirk's name added to your lease, as well as to the babies' birth certificates, so he can legally be acknowledged as their father. He'll have to supply his medical history so the information can be appended to the babies' records (which you'll be grateful to have). But all of that is for another day. The poor kid has shouldered quite enough responsibility today, and he looks exhausted.

"Hey," you say, and rest a hand on his shoulder. He doesn't flinch away or look uncomfortable at all—baby steps. "I know you're probably feeling overwhelmed right now, but it's okay. It'll be okay. We'll support each other, and Dave and Rose will grow up with two parents, and it'll be awesome. _You'll_ be awesome." Your words are meant for yourself as much as they are him. _We can do this._

Dirk pulls your hand from his shoulder and gives it a squeeze.  "I'll try my best." His orange eyes are steely and determined, and you believe him.

"Bye, Roxy. I'll see you soon."

"G'night, Dirk." You close the door behind him and pray it isn't the last you see of him.

 

Though he'd given you his word that he'd be back, you're terrified he'll try and run, and for three whole days you don't hear from him at all. Then early that Saturday, you hear a knock on your door, and Dirk is on your doorstep with two oversized duffel bags and a small, fragile smile.

"Hey," he says.

"Hey," you smile back. "You ready to do this thing?"

"Yeah. Let's make it happen."

**Author's Note:**

> If you're curious, yes, I did make some brief notes on the retconned alt-future of NeverVerse. Though I liked the way _Polaroid Snapshots_ ended, I thought I'd take things in a direction more similar to the retcon of Homestuck canon. To summarize:
> 
> In the Retcon!NeverVerse, Dirk and Roxy do end up living together and raising the kids, and in fact having a couple more because they didn't learn their lesson the first time. Quillan "Quil" Strider, aka Dave(peta)sprite, is born two years after Dave and Rose, and Katy Strider, Rosesprite, is born three years after that. Dirk and Roxy never end up marrying, but they do live together their whole lives as co-parents/moirails. With Roxy's support, Dirk goes to school and eventually winds up with a Doctorate in Computer Science, much the same way as I'd planned for him in the future of the original NeverVerse timeline. 
> 
> Quil becomes close friends with Jade and ends up starting a relationship with her, getting there first before Dave has the chance. They come out as nonbinary at 16. Jade and Quil date for years, have a daughter named Sharley Strider, but eventually break up on rather awkward terms without ever marrying.
> 
> Rose and Nadia (Kanaya) still end up together, because literally what else could ever happen.
> 
> Without Jade to be his childhood sweetheart, Dave spends more time examining his sexuality and comes out as bi as a teenager. He doesn't date anyone seriously until college, when he and Xander hook up. However their mutual friend Carson gets distressed and refuses to talk to either of them, and they realize that Carson has been crushing on Dave for months but just couldn't work up the nerve to tell him. Xander and Dave mutually decide to go back to being friends, and Xander steps aside for Carson to date Dave. After breaking up with Quil, Jade moves in with Dave and Carson, and after some awkward confessions on all of their parts, they wind up in a healthy triad relationship.
> 
> Anyway, that's quite enough on that! If anybody's interested, I may flesh out this alt timeline with a few shorts here and there, and I still have some WIP shorts from the original NeverVerse timeline sitting around, too. Give me a kick, and I might even finish something. :P


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